Survival
by Jeronimus
Summary: Charles and Richard find theirselves at the end of their Hogwarts career with big ambitions for their future. Times, however, are dark and uncertain, and the following of a certain dark wizard seems to become more and more alluring.
1. Teach us something please

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **"Survival" was originally written as "Overleven" by Jasmijn of the Dutch community . The translation to English was made by Jeronimus. I am not a native English speaker, but I have done my best. If there are any comments on the fluidity of the language, they would be most welcome.

**Chapter ****1**_**  
**__ Teach us something please_

"The end of a beautiful year. A Great Hall filled with sad faces. First years realizing they've found their favourite place in the world and won't return for another two months. Seventh years who may never come back at all. With pain in their hearts, they'll bid farewell to what had been their home for seven wonderful years.

You've walked a road. You weren't the first, but you did walk it, without straying from the path, without getting lost. You did not climb any unnecessary mountains, and kept your balance whenever something unexpected reared its head. You've swept the path clean for those that'll come after you. Who will, in their turn, walk it gloriously.

But your new path is full of lurking dangers. There will be no one to guide you, no one to hold you by the hand and make sure you go the right way. Whenever you face a split, you will have to decide for yourself in which direction you will go. Friends and family, they can help you, they can advise you. But when push comes to shove, it is your life, and you are walking your own road. One that needs to be cherished. With every tick of the clock, you'll be a tick older. And before you know it, you'll be an old man speaking to a Great Hall full of children hanging on your lips, listening to your every word."  
Dumbledore smiled and looked around the Great Hall. His gentle expression faded into one of severity and concern. "I wish to warn the eldest among you. Dark times are upon us. You may have grown used to the rose-colored pallet of Hogwarts, however it is nothing like the real world. Soon, you will find yourself facing darker days. Because, as clever, brave or loyal as you may be, there will always be traps you can find yourself caught within. There is something dark, that is gaining power. Silently, under wraps, yes. But it is powerful and it is gathering a large following. It is up to you to resist whatever injustice they may be spreading. It is up to you to stay true. To yourself. Keep looking for that happy child you always were, and you shall find yourself the victor."

Dumbledore sat silently and looked at several last-years. There were some hardly paying attention to his speech, there were others listening closely, their mouths ajar in admiration.

Richard Headly and Charles Anglin looked at each other, frowning their eyebrows.

"Do you think he's trying to make something clear?" whispered Rich, leaning towards Charlie.

"Future's gonna be dark?" Charlie shrugged.

It was the end of June. The fifth years had just completed their O.W.L.-examinations and those in the seventh year had made attempts to pass their N.E.W.T.'s.

Rich and Charlie were two friends who'd found themselves in their last year. They'd had their last exams, and the time had come for Dumbledore's annual speech. For the two Hufflepuffs, this would be the last time they sat at their house table, and with that came an array of mixed feelings. They were overjoyed that the time had come to begin their own lives, to find a job, and to build a family. They were sad because, as of today, their magical years at Hogwarts would just become memories. From now on they were on their own. "No one to hold your hand," as Dumbledore had said.

As Dumbledore's speech ended, tradition called for the scrumptious feast to appear. Everyone loaded their plates with food greedily, and the towers of food on the dishes rapidly diminished.

"Worst of all," shouted Pete, his mouth jam-packed with chicken, "we'll have to miss these banquets."

There were laughs and smiles of agreement along the table, and everyone enjoyed the feast even more. The seventh-year Hufflepuff students were seated together, and they enjoyed each other's company. Each bite that passed through his through, made Rich realize more and more that this would actually be the end. Charlie, on the other hand, acted as if it were the first enchanted meal he'd ever tasted and mostly made noise.

"One more night," Rich sighed and several looked down at their plates.

"I don't think I really understand it yet," Esther whispered, spinning her fork around in her food. "It's like Dumbledore says, like you have to leave your own family behind."

"Oh, come on. At least the lot of you can still see each other. I'll be going off to China, to capture a bunch of Demiguises and take care of 'em. Some Chinese bloke apparently thought they were some sort of albino-gorilla's or something like that, and tried to catch 'em. And now they were looking for someone to keep the colony in check. I must've been one of the only ones to sign up, 'cause I got the job," said Sean.

"Demiguises, wow!" Pete said, and he let out an admiring whistle. "Does it pay well?"

"You can bet your skinny arse, I wouldn't be going to China for nothing, would I?" grinned Sean.

"I'll be applying to be a Healer," said Pete. "Sprout says I'd make a nice chance."

"I'll be helping my mother out on Diagon Alley. When she quits, I'll be able to take over the shop." Esther smiled.

"We'll be working at the Ministry," Rich said, pointing at his own chest and at Charlie's.

"What department are you trying out for?" asked Sean.

"I'd like to go join the Committee on Experimental Charms. You know. Try out a lot of spells and charms, make up new ones, approve of them. Seems like it'd be fun."

"The Department of Magical Games and Sports is where I'll be headed first. My father says they always have a great time there," Charlie said. He was already lost in a daydream and saw himself sitting by a desk, shouting orders at other people, while sipping from a large mug of tea himself, when unexpectedly, the Fat Monk passed by him.

"But that, my children, is the future," he said, moved by everyone's big plans. "Live from day to day, because, before you know it… your life will be over."

"It's healthy to dream about the future," Esther laughed, moving over and making place for the Fat Monk to sit beside her.

"Isn't there anyone of you that dreams of becoming a monk?" he tried, but the only answer he received was loud laughter. "It is a fascinating profession, truly!"

"Not if you're more fascinated with love, though," Pete said, as he lovingly pressed a kiss onto Esther's cheek. With a chuckle, she pushed him away.

"That, my dear mister Sugarby, is called resisting the temptation. In all of my years as a monk, I have always been able to control my urges. Although I must admit, that the Grey Lady gets more beautiful by the year."

They all expressed their apparent disgust, and soon found themselves in an uncontrollable fit of laughter. As the banquet came to an end, the desserts appeared mid-air, and with that, the final feast had ended.

"Wait!" Dumbledore shouted, when people started to get up from their seats. "I'm afraid I cannot let you leave, without hearing you all sing _Hoggy Warty Hogwarts_ one final time!"

From the top of their lungs, everyone in the Great Hall croaked the song they had known since their first year at Hogwarts.

_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please… _

"Your last night," said Sifra, a fifth-year student, to Charlie, as they walked towards their Common Room. "You do realize you're going home tomorrow, and you'll never be coming back?"

"Never say never," Charlie laughed. "Who knows, I might work myself up to Minister for Magic and have to come to Hogwarts for a check-up."

"You? Minister for Magic?" Sifra screamed joyfully, patting Charlie's shoulder. "Keep dreaming, honey."

"Mind your words, ma'm," said Rich, joining the duo. "We will be working at the ministry, and we might even become ministers, one day."

"At the ministry?" Sifra said admiringly and her mouth folded into a naughty smirk. "As cleaning ladies, at the most!" Laughing frantically, she darted off.

"Why does everyone doubt us?" Rich chuckled, dropping himself into an armchair.

"We'll show them," said Charlie, and he patted his stomach. "I think I ate too much. I'll be too sick to go home tomorrow."

Rich laughed.

"So this is it," Esther whimpered. A tear rolled down across her cheek. "I can't believe it."

"There," Pete said, wrapping his arm around her, "I'm sure we'll be back. Besides, our kids'll be able to tell us everything."

A stiff smile is all she could show before her eyes got wet again.

"You'll miss it, won't you?" said Sifra, who was standing next to Charlie.

"It was a nice time, but we'll have to go on," sighed Charlie and he looked back over his shoulder at the gigantic castle.

"I wish I could be out of here already myself," Sifra mused, leaning herself against Charlie. "If I could just come work at the Ministry with you guys."

Sifra Escher was a Hufflepuff, like Charlie and Rich. She got along with the boys quite well, and spent quite some time with them. She tried to hide away the fact that she was having a hard time with the departure of her friends. Especially Charlie.

"Hey, it's not like we won't see each other again," said Charlie and he wrapped his arm around Sifra's shoulders. "I'll come visit you sometime, anyway."

"I'll take your word," said Sifra, smiling.

Slowly, they strolled towards the carriages. They gave one final look at the building that had been their home for seven long years. The Quidditch field, which had been like a sanctuary for Star Keeper Charlie. The Forbidden Forest, where they'd planned secret meetings for all houses. The gamekeeper's house, which was a part of Hogwarts, just like honey was part of tea. And the deep blue lake, where they'd sit on hot days in the sun, with their feet in the refreshing water.

Rich and Charlie got into their carriage and asked Sifra in. The carriages started moving and Rich poked his head out of the window once more.

"Till next we meet," sighed Sifra, and she hummed _"Hoggy Warty Hogwarts"_.

"God, I'll miss it," said Rich, softly. He pulled the curtain shut in front of the window. "I mean, it is the base of everything we'll be going through as wizards."

"Watch out, you're getting poetic," Sifra grinned.

Charlie sighed and asked them to change the subject. He too knew that he would miss it, but he would rather think of the future than of this moment.

The train ride home was everything but silent. Seventh-years of all houses ran through each other's compartments, wishing each other a happy future. Picture's were made, names were scribbled onto cloaks, badges were exchanged.

On Platform 9¾ the fun seemed to end abruptly.

A bunch of Hufflepuffs said goodbye to Rich and Charlie. Esther clamped herself to Pete desperately and didn't even try to control her tears anymore. First years that had wanted to tell Rich and Charlie how much they admired them, came to tell them that they would 'never forget them and they would follow their example'.

Sifra, too, said goodbye with pains in her chest.

"I'll really miss you guys," she said sternly and hugged Charlie. "Especially you, Charles Anglin," she whispered softly. She hugged Rich and then ran off to her parents with watery eyes quickly, so the boys would not see her cry.

"Rich! Charles!" Rich's parents and Charlie's father ran toward them.

"Mom! Dad! It's been so long," yelled Rich, hugging his parents.

Charlie, too, hugged his father, who seemed overjoyed to see his son. Charlie's mother had passed away last year, and he had been on his own. Charlie had offered to stay with him, but his father had refused and had insisted he finished his seventh year.

Charles and Richard didn't live with their parents anymore. They had bought their own small flat in London last year. During the school year, they would rent it. And so, this would be the first time they'd spend more than one night in the flat. Because of that, they were quite excited.

They'd called the house "Azka", in reference to Azkaban, the wizarding prison. When they'd first seen the flat, it had looked horrendous. It was dirty, damp and it smelled. After cleaning it thoroughly, it had recovered its charm, but they'd kept the name.

"Home," Charlie smiled, putting away his suitcase.

"Go on, Fiddle," said Rich, leaving his cat out of its cage.

"We had clean tenants," Charlie whistled as he swept his finger across the top of a large dresser. "Not even a thin layer of dust."

"Hey, Charlie! Come here, look! A letter from the Ministry!" Rich shouted excitedly, as he entered the room with an envelope clutched in his hands.

"Well," said Charlie with the same air of excitement. "Open it up!"

Trembling, Rich opened the letter and skimmed it hastily.

"Your dad," he mumbled and started laughing. "Your father arranged us a job interview at the Ministry next week! Any Department we want to!"

"What?" said Charlie unbelievingly, and he yanked the letter from Rich's hands. "What! This is brilliant!"

The two couldn't hide their joy. They gave the letter a prominent place on their fridge, so that each morning, they would be confronted with the great news.

'_Monday, July 12__th_,' Rich wrote on the calendar. '_Fix Ministry job_."


	2. 2 An Owl from the Ministry

**Chapter 2**  
An Owl from the Ministry

Every day Charlie and Rich became more nervous. They anxiously rehearsed several answers to standard questions that would make them sound intelligent. They bought new (and more importantly, expensive) cloaks so they'd look ravishing on the day of their job interview.  
It was a luxury to live in the heart of London, as they were able to reach Diagon Alley quickly. Nearly every day they went to the Leaky Cauldron or chose to have a sundae at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor.  
Their thoughts got ahead of them, and they'd almost started looking for new houses, where they could go live, one day, with their families. Luckily, there was still Rich's mother, who came by on a nearly daily basis, just to keep their feet on the ground.

"You're not there yet," she'd say when the two would start dreaming of a glorious future again. "You don't have the job yet. Don't get carried away!"

This was always followed by her usual speech of how she had applied at the Ministry as well, but got fired after her first day. About how she was working for a minimum wage after that, because she too had been preoccupied with the Ministry and nothing but the Ministry. That she'd never given up on trying to get her job back, and was never clever enough to get another education.

"But look at me now," she'd always end. "Everything turned out just fine in the long run."

When the day came for the boys to have their job interview, she was there as well.

"Oh, my boys! You look radiant!" she screamed delightedly when she saw the two of them in their brand new cloaks.

The two were so very nervous, they could hardly swallow a bite, and it seemed like they had to wait for hours before being able to leave. Charlie paced up and down the room and Rich cleaned the house.

"Good remedy," he answered stiffly, when his mother asked him what he did that for.

"Right then. Come on. You'll better get going now!" Rich's mother yelled. A moment later three people apparated next to a London phone box.

"I won't be going in with you," she said with a frown. "But Charles' father should be waiting for you in the Atrium."

Rich had spent the better part of an hour learning the phone number they had to dial by heart, however, when it came down to it, it seemed he had forgotten. Charles had taken his precautions, though, and written it down on a piece of paper.

"Charles Anglin and Richard Headly, applying for a job," Rich said through the phone's horn, his voice trembling ever so slightly. The two boys arrived in the hall, each with a badge pinned to their new cloak. _Charles Anglin, job interview_ and _Richard Headly, job interview_.

"Ah, Richard, Charlie!" Charlie's father came running up to them, making his way through the masses of witches and wizards walking around in the busy Atrium. He clamped onto their arms and pulled them along with him. "Come along, you don't want to be late."

Somewhat startled, they travelled to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, where they were to be examined. Charlie's father patted the both of them on the back.

"Anglin," sounded a stern voice from within an office.

Charlie took a deep breath and stepped into the office confidently. Behind a white desk, a young woman was seated.

"Have a seat," she said, pointing towards a comfortable chair. Clearly, the stern voice hadn't been hers. She sounded much more gentle. "Coffee, tea, pumkin juice?"

"Oh, no… thanks," Charlie stuttered, surprised with the hospitality.

"I think I will," the woman smiled, fetching herself a cup of hot, steaming coffee. "There," she said as soon as she was seated again. "Why don't you tell me what you know about the Ministry."

This had been one of the questions the two of them had anticipated, a question they'd thought about at home.

"In my opinion, it is the base of the entire wizarding world. I mean, if the Ministry falls, then everyone falls along. Muggles will find out about us, and they'll want to use us for their own benefits. It is the Ministry's task to make sure that these two worlds stay separated, to make sure they can live in peace together, without letting one find out about the other."

"Orderly," the woman muttered. "I remember when I got the question. I just replied that it was a building below the ground. But then here I am, am I not?" She slurped from her cup of coffee, stood up and walked toward the cupboard to get a cookie.

"Well then. Which Department carries away your favour?"

"The Department of Magical Games and Sports."

"Oh, really? Are you absolutely sure?" she said loudly, practically shouting. "I'm really not that fond of Quidditch and everything revolving around it. What good is it, anyway? Sitting on a broomstick, circling around while Bludgers are attempting to pummel your head into a pulp? The potential danger of a Quaffle smacking ejecting you from your broom brutally? Seekers not paying attention to where they're flying, while trying to locate the Snitch? Take my friend, for instance, he drives me mad! He happens to be talented at Quidditch, and after every match he plays, he'll go on for hours about how well he played. Threefold hurray, isn't it? Don't make me laugh!" She shook her head decisively and let out a disgruntled sigh. "Well then, where were we?" she smile sweetly.

"Er," said Charlie, who had just been absolutely shaken, and was staring at the woman bewilderedly. "I said… I wanted to work at the Department of Magical…"

"Ah, yes! And why exactly this department?"

"I'm quite fond of sports," he squeaked nervously. "I mean, I like them. And I'd like working with them. I'd love it if I could make that my job."

"Well then. Let's assume there is a dragon running rampant in a Muggle town. You are aware that this is entirely your fault. You set him loose. He gets a front page spot in every news paper. Every single Muggle knows about it… What are you going to do about it?"

"Er…" Charlie panicked. He hadn't expected a question like this. "Well, I would, er, I'd erase the memories of the journalists and then, ehm, make them write it was a joke with the Imperius Curse?"

"Mister Anglin!" the woman shrieked. "I would hope that you know the Imperius Curse is _forbidden_! Should I reserve you a ticked in Azkaban, perhaps?"

Charlie looked at the woman with shock. He gazed at her, dumb-struck. He tried to come up with an answer hastily.

"I'd rather spend a lifetime in Azkaban, than live with the guilt of having everyone live in fear... and being the one to reveal us to the Muggles."

"Ah. Nice. When I got a similar question, I said I'd probably kill myself. That earned me no points either. Well then, where were we?"

"The dragon…"

Over the course of the rest of the interview, Charlie managed to calm down a bit. Sure, his answers to some questions where so blatantly wrong, that the woman found herself laughing for a full five minutes, but all in all, he hadn't done a terrible job at all.

Rich, the intelligent counterpart, did well as well. He wasn't interviewed by the lady, but by an elderly man, who didn't have any commentary on any of his answers, and who didn't make him nervous at all.

"There," Rich let out a sigh of relief upon exiting the office. "That's over with."

"How was it?" said Charlie, who'd just finished as well.

"Fine. I could've elaborated more, I think, but overall, I'm satisfied."

Relieved and satisfied, they left the Ministry. They were welcomed heartily by their parents at home.

"Oh, Richie!" screamed his mother, and she firmly pressed him against her. "How was it, dear?"

"Fine, mom, thanks. But we'll have to wait to find out."

"And Charles!" Mrs Headly locked him in her arms as well. Ever since Charles' mother had died, she'd looked at him as a bit of a second son.

Charlie's father promised he'd inform them about the good news as soon as he knew something.

"Thanks, dad," Charlie yawned, dropping himself on the couch, completely knackered. A day's worth of stress came over him and he didn't awake until later that evening.

* * *

The following days were spent in constant tension. They sent an owl every day to ask if a decision was made already, but every day, they'd get a reply saying they were still in discussion.

"I'm going to go mental!" Rich yelled one day, when the same message arrived again. "Stupid Ministry! Why won't they just give us the job already? I mean, we did fine, didn't we?"

"Rich, calm down. They're probably just in shock that two strapping young men like ourselves made such a good impression. They'll have to decide if we're not _too_ smart for the job. And if it wouldn't be a better idea to make us Ministers immediately instead."

"Charles, please! I can't stand your jokes right now. Have you even thought about what we're going to do if we don't get the job? No money, no income, no nothing! We can go live on the street then. Beg for Knuts on Diagon Alley. How does that sound for a career move?"

"Rich, we won't have to live on the street. We can find another job."

"What? What is it you want to do? Organising the books alphabetically at Flourish and Blotts? Scooping up own poop at the Owl Emporium? That's not exactly what I'm looking forward to, Charles. Not at all."

"Then don't think about it. Think you're going to get the Ministry job," Charlie said. "And don't call me Charles."

"Okay, Charles."

"Richard Melchalius Eulalie Headly."

"How dare you."

* * *

A day later an owl floated through the window, with a piece of parchment attached to its claw.

_I just heard a decision has been made. You'll be hearing the news today. Prepare yourselves, you never know. Good luck._

Rich and Charlie almost died of stress. One phrase could turn their lives around for better or for worse. One stupid phrase could potentially ruin everything, or make everything better. One phrase… two worlds to fall into.

"Rich," Charlie uttered suddenly. "What if one of us gets the job… and the other one doesn't?"

"Oh dear, oh dear," said Rich, covering his face with his palms desperately. "I'll die."

"Good plan, me too," Charlie smiled stiffly. He started pacing up and down the room again and wiped some dust from the cabinets.

"This feels worse than leaving Hogwarts."

"Leaving Hogwarts felt amazing compared to this. Where's the bloody letter?"

As if it was magic, a grey owl suddenly passed by their window at that very moment. He tapped its beak on the glass. Charlie tried to open the window clumsily and eventually managed to let the bird in.

Rich fidgeted at the piece of parchment and held it clenched in his shaking hand.

"This is it then," he whispered, afraid to open the letter. "Here we go."

Quaking, he opened the letter and let him eyes slide across the piece of paper. His face did not move, as he read each word for a second time. When he'd finished the letter, he dropped it from his hand and stared into the distance vaguely.

"Rich?" Charlie asked frightened, picking the letter up.

_Dear __Misters Anglin and Headly,_

_We regret to inform you that we cannot offer you the jobs for which you applied.__  
It needs, however, to be said, that we were pleasantly surprised by your knowledge and intelligence, something which is seldom seen in young people such as yourselves. For this reason, the choice was not easy. Will we allow new, refreshing ideas for our wizarding world? They are, after all, the new generation. But when we analysed every question, we felt as if everything was going too fast.__  
A spot at the Ministry, my boys, is something you have to earn. You do not get it by simply responding intelligently, or by being well-prepared and sounding as if you are. You do by standing for the good in our world. Let me paraphrase mr. Anglin's answer. After all, two worlds must live together, without one finding out about the other. And that is a large responsibility.__  
The fact that you have never had to show a sense of responsibility is what worries us the most. Can we put the organization of our world into the hands of young, inexperienced people, and trust them with this? No, replied many a colleague at the Ministry. No, we cannot take this risk.  
Yet I wish to thank you for coming to us. Our faith in the young folk, in Hogwarts, in our successors, has hereby grown even more. The fact that we know there are wizards like yourself, young and full of courage, reinvigorates our spirit as well. The future is looking glum, I am sure you are aware of this too. With ideas like yours, however, we could make some advancements. In the future, but also in these grim ages._

_With my sincerest apologies,_

_Wurdmer Melaincolley,__  
Department of Magical Law Enforcement,__  
Ministry of Magic,  
London_

"We'd better go buy us a shovel," Rich said, his eyes becoming moisty. "Looks like we'll be scooping owl poop."

Charlie dropped onto the couch aghast and covered his face with his hands. Softly he started sobbing.

"Charles," said Rich, comfortingly, as he sat down next to his friend. "Charles. We shouldn't be crying."

But Rich, of course, was angry as well. In a fit of rage, he grabbed the letter and tore it to pieces, screaming brutally.

"BLOODY MINISTRY!" he shouted, kicking everything that got in his way. "NO RESPONSIBILITY? WE LIVE ON OUR OWN AND WE CAN TAKE CARE OF OURSELVES! I WAS A _BLOODY_ PREFECT! NO RESPONSIBILITY?"

"Rich!" yelled Charlie, sniffing. "Stop it!"

"We failed, Charlie," Rich whispered, looking Charlie in the eyes, closely. "We only have one education and we wasted it. It is over, Charlie. We failed. And we should have known! We're two inexperienced kids! Fresh out of Hogwarts, we'll have a job right away, of course it won't be that easy!"

"It's my fault," Charlie whimpered. "It was me, face it. Because I said I'd use the Imperius Curse… and that I wanted to be in Azkaban and … I ruined everything!"

"It was the both of us. We were too god-damn confident. We should have waited. A year. Maybe two year. Done something else in the meantime, getting ready for something serious. But no, Richard and Charlie have to take the plunge right into the Big World and well, there they are, with their faces up against a wall!"

Charlie stood up and ran into his bedroom. It was as if he had snapped in two. He'd hoped for good news so much that he had forgotten there might as well be bad news. Their dreams had been broken to pieces, with nothing that could glue it. It was lost.


End file.
